The Long & Winding Road
by bohemiangirl75
Summary: The boys are on holiday in Mexico, when their ex-flying ace host takes them flying. Their plane crash lands in the middle of nowhere, but when a suspicious truck shows up, this is the least of their worries.
1. Up In The Air

**A/N: Another day, another Beatles story. Once again, it is 12am. Idk, I think I just get my bursts of creativity late at night. This came to me when I was reading a crime thriller and I think it's pretty original. Please review :D**

**P.S: There will most probably be a lot of George in this story, I don't really write about him and I feel like I need to. So, George lovers, rejoice!**

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"Alrighty fellas, how would you like to see a bit of what Mexico has to offer, huh?" asked Jack Stone. "We'll get ya strapped into the plane and take her right up to the rainforest, whaddaya say?"

The Beatles were on a holiday in Tres Hermanas in Mexico. It was great, because no one knew who they were. They were staying in a retired war flying ace's grand mansion because there wasn't really any nice hotels. It was just the four of them; even Brian agreed they didn't need to be chaperoned all the time.

"Sure," said Paul. "We'll just go get ready,"

The boys went upstairs in to their adjoining rooms and dressed quickly. They had learned that, although Mexico was a hot place, it had a tendency to rain heavily at times, so they wore baggy trousers and shirts and each had a raincoat, just in case. Stone was dressed in formal flying attire. John had to bite his lip to keep from laughing at the man's flying cap and oversized goggles. They exited the mansion and went to the small airstrip behind it. Stone looked up at the sky and frowned.

"Hmm, could be a storm brewin'"

George secretly hoped there was. He _detested_ flying.

"We'll take her up anyhow, and see how we go," Stone led the boys in to an old Ford plane with 6 seats. He handed them each a set of headphones and told them to belt up.

"Okay guys we're gonna take her up, nice and slow," came Stone's muffled voice through the earphones.

George gulped and gripped the handles of the seats so hard, his knuckles turned white.

Ringo looked over at the poor chap. He wished he had a travel pill for him but he had left them back at the house.

John rolled his eyes. As usual George was being a wimp about flying. Even though John himself was a little apprehensive at flying in a small, old plane, but he kept quiet.

Paul looked out the window at the dense jungle below. He hadn't stopped grumbling since they arrived at Mexico. He didn't particularly want to come and he didn't like Stone. They could have gone to Spain or France, but _Mexico? _His bandmates were clearly against him, so he had had to back down.

They flew steadily for about half an hour and they were getting rather bored. Stone evidently had not noticed this.

"So, fellas, is this the life or what?" came his voice through their headphones.

"Erm, yeah, it's great, thanks for this Jack," said Ringo, politely.

"Well, I'll take her round now, then we'll land, how's that sound?"

"Great," said Paul, with a hint of sarcasm.

Stone said nothing and continued to fly the plane.

George was concentrating on his feet, when he heard what sounded like tiny stones pattering the window beside him. It was hailstones. George looked out the window and saw lightning. They had flown in to the belly of a storm. Gulping, he resumed looking at his feet.

John had noticed that George seemed paler than usual and decided to find out why.

"Ey, Georgie what's wrong?" he asked.

The younger man said nothing, but grunted towards the window. John looked out and could see nothing but rain and they seemed to be getting lower.

"Erm, Mr Stone, it seems to be raining slightly," he said, slightly sarcastically in to his headphones.

"I've noticed," came a snappy reply. John was taken aback. This was the first time Stone had not been the perfect host.

He was struggling with the controls and the plane lurched sideways.

George closed his eyes and said a prayer to himself.

Paul looked up at Stone to see what the man was doing to stop this.

John stared out the window, and thought about his wife and son back home. He was scared.

Ringo simply glanced at his feet. What would happen, would happen.

The boys noticed that they were getting closer to the greenery below.

"We're goin' full nose down!" shouted Stone and the plane landed with a thud in the rainforest, slid along until finally grinding to a halt, some 50 feet from where it had first hit the ground.

_***George POV***_

Was I dead? It certainly felt like it. I was asleep and cosily dreaming. I was approaching a white light and I could see my grandad.

"Now, son, you've to go back, you can't come here," he said.

"But-" I began.

"No buts,"

I sighed. That was Grandpa John alright.

"Ey, Georgie, wake up son," came a Liverpudlian voice.

No John, let me sleep. Go away. Scram. Vamoose.

He persisted in shaking me until I opened my eyes and rolled over. I started coughing and I could taste dust in my mouth and I smelt smoke. I felt a great deal of pain in my ankle, so I looked down. I wish I didn't. There was skin flapping around and blood pouring from a wound. The bone was stuck out at a funny angle.

"Now I know why you hate flying," said Paul to my right. He was nursing a nasty gash in his arm and he shuddered when he looked at my ankle.

"What happened?" I mumbled.

"We went down, in the storm," said Ringo, who looked unharmed.

John was over in the fallen plane, rummaging around. He came back with bandages and started to bandage up Paul's arm and my ankle. Mimi had taught him something then.

I sat up quickly. "What happened to Stone?"

"He's dead," said John harshly, tying the bandage in to a tight knot.

My stomach flipped. Jack Stone was dead. Just a few minutes ago he'd been flying them around.

"Well, what do we do now?" said Ringo.

No one had an answer to that.

A few hours later, we had set up a camp of sorts. I was resting my head on a large palm leaf and my foot was elevated upon a log. John had got a fire going, Paul had found some fruit and Ringo had taken canteens from the plane and filled them in a nearby river. It didn't feel like we were Beatles anymore. It felt like we were savages, cavemen even, deserted from all civilization.

Eventually, we all drifted off to sleep, until I was awoken by the sounds of a truck. Were we saved?

Paul stood up and tried to flag it down. "Help us, please!"

The truck braked and 4 men and 2 women got out and surveyed us.

After a while, one of the women whispered something to one of the men, who grinned.

"Hey there boys," he said with an American accent. "You guys are quite famous, why are you stranded in the middle of nowhere, huh?"

"We, erm, were on a plane, it crashed," mumbled Ringo.

A woman with long red hair came over to me and took a look at my ankle.

"Jeez darlin', that looks nasty," she said in a Southern drawl. I kept quiet. She laughed. "This is a quiet one Jeeves," she said to the first man.

"Oh, he'll talk," said Jeeves, just loud enough for me to hear.

"Alright, well, hope on to the back of the truck fellas," said another man, who was short and stocky.

Ringo climbed on first, then, with John and Paul supporting me, I got on and we sat down. Suddenly we were ambushed by the other woman, who was small and tan, she looked Mexican. Nimbly, she tied us to a bench going around the back of the truck.

"Ey, what do you think you're doing?" shouted John.

The Southern woman laughed. "Alejandra is simply helping us, Mister Lennon. Now, keep quiet, you don't want to get on my bad side,"

I eyed the small woman with fear as she took Ringo's hand and sliced his little finger off with a small blade. He yelled out in pain.

"You've cut me finger off!"

"Insurance, _se__ῆ__or" _she said with a thick Mexican accent as she sat on top of a metal box, her eyes never leaving us.

**A/N: Ohoho, I bet you didn't see that coming! I hope you enjoyed this, and I really would **_**love **_**if you reviewed, it takes 30 seconds and inspires me to write more!**

**Thanks guys!**


	2. Introductions

**A/N; Hey guys, wow 3 reviews on the first chapter, that I was **_**not **_**expecting, so thank you to LovelyBirdxx5, Kasuto Vero and Martha Your Dear for those! I'm aware the plane crash part is similar to The Crazy Violist's **_**Help Us If You Can **_**(check her stories out, she's brilliant, I particularly like **_**Scrambled Eggs **_**and **_**The British Invasion**_**) but that wasn't deliberate, I just needed something to set up the kidnapping of the boys, the plane crash is not relevant to the rest of my story, in fact I got the entire idea from a book called Hurricane Gold. (read it, it's good) Anyway, just clearing that up, sorry for the long Author's Note, enjoy chapter 2 and review :D**

**P.S: For you guys who like my other story **_**I Believe In Yesterday, **_**I kinda have writer's block, so don't kill me, I'll have something up soon.**

John glanced at Paul's watch. It was 8.45pm. They had been driving for around 2 hours. Alejandra, the girl who had sliced Ringo's finger off, had not taken her eyes of them. John refused to look at her. He was lost in his own thoughts. He had a plan. He would get them out of this.

_***Paul POV***_

And they wondered why I didn't want to come to Mexico.

My arm hurt like hell. John had done his best with the bandages, but it was a ramshackle job to be honest and I think it's got the beginnings of being infected, which makes matters worse.

I felt sorry for Ringo. Blood was still coming from the stump he had left of a little finger. Would he ever play drums again? Who knows?

We had to focus on keeping our strength up. Out of the four of us, John was the fittest, he had just got a bit battered when the plane came down, and other than a few bruises, he was fine. George's ankle was completely done in and I was worried that he wouldn't be able to get very far if we managed to escape, my arm was aching and Ringo was without a finger.

I think we knew that this Mexican girl would probably slit our throats if we tried to escape. I stole a glance at her. She looked barely 17, and she was tiny. But she was clearly light on her feet, nimble like a puma and handy with a knife. But, she wasn't with the Southern bird and 4 guys. They had obviously only recruited her to do their dirty work. If somehow, we could get her on our side, it would be even. 5 against 5. I tried to think of a way to do just that.

But my mind was blank.

Then it came to me.

_***Ringo POV***_

These people were going to pay. The girl had only gone and cut off my finger for "insurance." Being the closest of the four of us to the other gang members, I tried to listen in to their conversation. As far as I could tell, the woman was called Miss Barlow; I didn't catch the first name, or it wasn't brought up. I knew one of the men was called Jeeves, the short, stocky one was called Whatsat, there was a blonde one called Charlie and a tall, red haired one called Ginge.

I snorted to myself.

Our captors went by the names of Miss Barlow, Alejandra, Jeeves, Charlie, Ginge and Whatsat.

Honestly, the only two I was slightly afraid of was Alejandra; okay, fuck it, I was shit scared of her, and then Ginge, because he looked very tall and broad. I just hoped one of the other guys had a plan to get us out of this because I certainly didn't.

Suddenly the truck grinded to a halt and Charlie got out and gave it a good kick.

"Stupid Mexican crap!" he yelled. He was American.

I was worried that he was going to take out his frustration on one of us when Miss Barlow came out and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Calm down now Charles. We'll just rest up here and let our campers know what we're gonna be doing," she said, looking over at us. I gulped as a smile dawned on Charlie's face.

_***Third Person***_

Jeeves grabbed Alejandra's arm and said something to her in broken Spanish about the truck. She winced as he let her go.

"_S__í__ se__ῆ__or," _she said, and went towards the bonnet of the truck.

Meanwhile, Jeeves, Charlie, Whatsat and Ginge had sat down across from the boys and Miss Barlow was standing at the edge of the truck, silently daring them to talk.

"Well fellas, you're probably wondering why you're here," said Ginge, stubbing out a cigarette and kicking George's ankle, who winced.

"Don't touch him," spat John in disgust.

Ginge squatted down so he was face to face with John.

"What are you gonna do about it, huh tough guy? You queer for him, eh?"

John didn't reply; he simply glared at Ginge in disgust.

"Now, now Ginge, there will be time for fun later," said Miss Barlow. "_Plenty _of time," she said while looking directly at Paul, who shrank away from her gaze.

"Moving on. Let's get straight to the point; you guys are rich and famous and I sure as hell don't think the world would wanna lose the Beatles," said Charlie. "You agree?" he said to Whatsat.

"Whatsat?" said Whatsat. Obviously the man was a bit hard of hearing.

"I said, I don't think the world is gonna wanna lose the Beatles!" shouted Charlie.

"Oh, yeah, no they won't. Especially if they lose one," he said, pointing a gun directly at John's head. The man could barely hear, but he had eyes like a hawk.

Paul, Ringo and George felt their stomachs flip. Was this man really going to kill John in cold blood?

"Well go on then, I can't stand this waiting around," said John, daring Whatsat to pull the trigger.

Jeeves rolled his eyes. "Put the gun down, Whatsat, we can't shoot 'em,"

Ringo let out a sigh of relief.

"Yet," said Jeeves sharply, looking at him.

"What the hell do you want?" asked Paul.

"Well, sonny boy, we want a lot of stuff. And we're pretty much willing to do whatever it take with you guys to get it," said Miss Barlow, with a twisted smile.

"Look, if it's money you want, we have loads, you can take it all," blurted out George desperately.

Miss Barlow laughed.

"Aw honey, if it was only that easy. No, sugar, what we want is revenge.

"Revenge?" said Ringo curiously, despite himself.

"Let me tell you a story," began Miss Barlow. "Once upon a time there was a flying ace called Jack Stone,"

George gasped. "He-"

"I know sweetie," said Miss Barlow, silencing him with a flick of her hand. "Anyway, this guy was a pretty famous war hero. He had dinner with the president, and he was very rich. Or so everyone thought. But in reality, he was broke. So, when everyone upped sticks and moved down here, he was lured by the liquid gold,"

"But I thought the oil rush was just a myth?" said Paul. Miss Barlow laughed.

"Oho, it was, the only people making any money were the guys supplying the tools to the suckers. Anyhow, Stone had to keep up the pretence of being a rich, famous guy, but the wife and kids couldn't handle it, so they went back to the States, and he became just like the rest of them; a greedy fool. He owes me something," she finished.

"Well he's dead, so whatever it is, you're not likely to get it," said John.

"He's not dead," she snapped.

"Yes he is, I saw his body with my own two eyes!" shouted John. "You're all twisted. What do you want with us? We're wounded and in the middle of nowhere and we have families, now let us fucking go!"

Miss Barlow glared at John. How dare he say such a thing! She clicked her fingers.

Out of nowhere, Alejandra appeared and knelt down so close to John he could feel her breath on his skin. He thought she was pretty, but he wasn't about to let himself be distracted by her. She sat staring at him for a while and then she started kissing his neck.

"Ey, get off me, I'm married!" he shouted, struggling against her. But what he didn't notice is that while she was doing that, Miss Barlow had produced a knife.

She slashed his cheek, leaving a cut about 2 inches long. He yelled out in pain and Alejandra got off him, her work complete.

Miss Barlow put the knife away and clapped her hands twice.

"Now, gentlemen, I think we should rest, yes?"

**A/N: I'll admit, it was hard to write that John part without getting jealous about Alejandra, and worried about Miss Barlow. Anyway, did you like it? Did you love it? Did you hate it? Let me know!**


	3. The All Seeing Eye

**A/N: Hello there everyone, it's been a while since I have updated this fic, but I'm planning to update all my fics a few times before I start a new one, not that I have an idea for a new one, but I'll think of something. Anyway, I've actually enjoyed writing this kinda crime thriller stuff, as opposed to the usual cute Beatles love stuff, which is always good, but this is more gritty and edgier xD anyway, do you guys like this kinda stuff, if you do, there's more where this came from :D**

**I actually have a notepad where I've sat and worked this whole thing out, I'm quite excited to write it actually**

**Dear god that was a long ass authors note.**

**Anyway**

**Enjoy and please do review:D**

**Hannah xx**

***John's POV***

I was not going to sleep. Sleep was for the weak. The weak who wanted to escape their cold, harsh reality and live in their dreams. Well I got news for you, weaklings. You have to wake up sometime. How the fuck could I sleep anyway? I had a good 2 inch deep cut on my face, which stung like hell, especially in this humid air, and my mind was buzzing with thoughts. Unanswered questions. Unfinished plans. I was lying before when I said I had a plan. It was simply an act, something to do, I had no idea what to follow it with. A plan is made up of many acts, you don't go to a play to see a single scene, you go to see different acts, and I had only one, which was not even that good. It's not like we could have done anything anyway, the four of us being thoroughly battered and tied to a bench, with that Mexican girl watching us. That bitch Barlow had got her to come on to me so she could rough me up. I was not about to let myself be sidetracked by some girl who was a lot younger than me, for once, I was focused on the task at hand. The trouble was, I had no idea exactly what that task was.

***George's POV***

I was pretty desperate by this point, drifting in and out of sleep, but all I saw was the plane burning, my grandad's face and Whatsat pointing a gun at John's head. Then a chill washed over me. What if they were to kill one of us? Or…all of us? I swallowed and looked around. Charlie and Miss Barlow were nowhere to be seen, Alejandra was curled up in a ball on the metal box she'd been watching us on all day, Jeeves was snoring loudly on the driver's seat, Ginge was passed out next to him and Whatsat was sleeping beside the dying embers of the fire. They were all soundly asleep, so I decided to take a leap of faith.

"Anyone awake?" I whispered.

No one answered then after a while, I heard John's voice.

"Yeah,"

I sniffed a little bit, glad it was dark to hide my face. "What do we do?"

"I don't know Georgie, I really don't know," he whispered, and I could hear the guilt in his voice.

"Well we can't stay here forever," I whispered back.

"We'll think of something, try to sleep," he said, with determination.

I wondered if any of the gang had heard us and I leant my head back and closed my eyes, eventually falling into a surprisingly dreamless sleep.

***third person***

Eventually they were all asleep, even John.

What none of them knew, including the gang, although they each had their suspicions, was that Charlie and Miss Barlow were currently asleep in each other's arms out of side from the others, behind a bush. They had had a "thing" going on for quite some time now, she saw it as just something casual, to keep her occupied, he was honestly in love with her, although he didn't often show it.

Back in England, it was the middle of the afternoon, and Brian Epstein was going mad with panic in his London office. Jack Stone, damn him, had not called with updates on the boys, if they were doing okay and so forth and such with. Brian had only agreed to letting them go un-chaperoned if Stone had called every so often with updates. In Brian's world, every so often meant every day without fail. He was getting genuinely worried; they were the biggest band in the world and he hadn't received any intelligence on them for days. He was considering flying out to Mexico, but then assured himself everything was fine. After all, Stone was a lax man, very laid back, not a worrier, the complete opposite of Brian. Brian told himself if he had not received word within the week, he would go and find out what was wrong.

In Mexico, the sun was just beginning to rise and the sky was different shades of red, orange, lilac and pink. For the past two hours, a Mexican born American girl had been sitting in the shelter of a tree, silently watching the ten people sleeping before her. She eyed the four boys, who looked to be either the same age as her or a few months younger, with sorrow. She knew this gang well, and without her being there, they probably would be dead in a few months. She then narrowed her small eyes while looking at the two men asleep in the front of the van. Jeeves and Ginge were two men she had no respect for. She would be attending to them as soon as she could. She saw Whatsat asleep beside the last embers of a camp fire, and smiled to herself as she remembered being there when he had lost most of his hearing. She had to squint to see them, but she could just make out the figures of Miss Barlow, and a man she didn't recognise, in each other's arms behind a bush. She snorted quietly. Their secret would not be safe for long. Then, at last, her eyes fell upon the small girl in a ball, sleeping without a blanket next to the boys, and her eyes brimmed with tears, before she brushed them harshly away, and told herself that emotions were a luxury, not a necessity.

As the soon rose over the jungle of Palenque, the well built girl ran her father's small folding knife through her fingers and pressed the cold metal to her lips.

"Soon," she whispered.

**A/N: wow, I hope you enjoyed that, regardless of whether you did or not, let me know in a review, after all, I'm writing for you guys :D**


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